


men with insight, men of granite

by eclectictsunami



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: A little Christmassy, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectictsunami/pseuds/eclectictsunami
Summary: Steve's not actually an idiot; he just doesn't always know what love looks like when he sees it.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 169





	men with insight, men of granite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flippyspoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/gifts).



> This is flippy's fault, 100%. You compared these two to Drarry and I lost the battle. Happy New Year.
> 
> Title from Van Morrison's "Tupelo Honey."

It’s a mild winter, by Hawkins standards. The sun is still weak and watery, the days as short and grey as you’d expect, but though the air is chilly, there’s no bite to it. What little snow they get turns into muddy slush almost immediately; Robin laughs at him when, one morning, he loses his footing and plants into a soft, wet patch of grass outside Family Video. He tries to play it off as intentional, but of course she’s not buying it; she romps through the puddles in her tall, sturdy rain boots, so that even if the water does splash high enough to get onto her tights, it barely seems to faze her. Most days she just wears her slicker, managing somehow to look as cool and cheerful as ever while Steve laments what the rain does to his hair.

It’s a mild winter, but you wouldn’t know it to look at Billy Hargrove. Every time Steve sees him he’s well-bundled, usually in a puffy coat zipped nearly up to his chin; Steve would put it down to him being poorly adjusted to Midwestern winters, but last winter was cold and harsh, a real freeze-your-balls-off type of winter, and Steve still saw a good percentage of the guy’s chest pretty much every day. He rarely wore a coat, and when he did he managed to keep so much of the shirt underneath unbuttoned that Steve was pretty sure he was going to get bronchitis or something.

But of course Billy’s different now.

He’s gotten real quiet. Before, even when Billy wasn’t talking he was still loud; he popped his gum and wolf-whistled and snapped his fingers and even if a bunch of people were laughing you could always hear his laugh over the others’ because it was just a little too loud. He was even loud when he walked; as far as Steve could tell he didn’t know how to walk without clomping his boots on the ground with every step, going out of his way to kick any object in his path. Billy was loud in bare feet. He made every room he stepped into loud. Now he reminds Steve of nothing so much as a skittish deer, eyes always darting to the exits of every room like he’s getting ready to escape at any moment. He probably is, he figures. Steve kind of doesn’t blame him.

Steve almost never sees him without Max now. She charges ahead of him with that furious look on her face, like an angry little redheaded avenging angel and it would be funny if Steve hadn’t seen how devastated she was when everyone thought he was dead, or how small and scared Billy is now. His voice is doesn’t really go above a rumble and he can’t quite seem to meet Steve’s eyes, most of the time. And his face looks totally different now that all his hair is gone, the top of his head all bare and stubbly. He looks weirdly naked without it, like there’s too much of his face on display. Steve never noticed that his ears kind of stick out before.

He and Billy had been okay, eventually. They hadn’t ever been friends, but after they’d beat the fucking shit out of each other some of the tension had sort of dissipated, or at least had been replaced with something a little less likely to burst into violence. They weren’t friends, not in school, not when he died, but they’d been okay. Steve isn’t really sure what they are now.

He’s pretty sure friends talk more than he and Billy do. Or something. They mostly exchange awkward nods. Sometimes Steve goes on break when he sees Billy smoking outside Family Video and smokes with him, but they don’t say very much. Billy’s hands shake every time he holds a cigarette, and Steve usually looks away, embarrassed for him. He wouldn’t call it anything at all, except there’s some kind of weird weight to it, and he can’t decipher the looks Robin gives him when he comes back in. She looks like she wants to say something, but not like she wants to make fun of him, and he doesn’t know what the hell that means. He’s pretty sure she knows something he doesn’t, because she always knows stuff he doesn’t, even about himself probably, but she doesn’t offer anything, and he doesn’t know how to ask.  
One time, on impulse, Steve reaches out and touches the top of Billy’s head, where the hair is starting to grow in. It’s a little prickly, going against the grain, but Steve is pretty sure it would be soft, if he moved his hand the other way. Billy startles but doesn’t pull away, and when Steve mumbles an awkward apology he can see Billy’s ears getting pink. He doesn’t actually know why he did it, any more than he knows why Billy doesn’t punch him in the dick for it.

A few times, Billy stands so close to him, hunched down just a little the way he almost always is these days, that if he moved even an inch he’d have his head pressed against Steve’s shoulder. Steve doesn’t close the distance, but sometimes he wonders what would happen if he did. It just kind of feels impossible. It feels way, way too big. Putting his hands on Billy when they were fighting was easy, but touching him in any other way is a little bit terrifying.

Given all this, what comes next shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does.

It’s an unremarkable day, a few days before Christmas. It should be an unremarkable day, anyway, but something feels different between him and Billy. The air between them is heavier, and there’s a knot in the pit of Steve’s stomach that he doesn’t understand and can’t explain. The silence isn’t comfortable this time, and although Billy doesn’t talk any more than usual, he doesn’t feel quiet.

When Billy passes him a cigarette, their fingers brush and hold together just a little too long - Steve reaches and touches Billy’s wrist, Billy’s thumb brushing over the meat of Steve’s palm, and he’s honestly not sure why he’s letting him do that, but -

And then, all at once, all in a rush, Billy surges forward - how did he move so fast, Steve didn’t know he could still move so fast - and kisses him on the mouth.

Before he can process this, before he can even begin to understand what is happening, Billy is pulling away, his face ashen and absolutely fucking awful, Steve’s pretty sure his face looked less fucked when he was dead, and he’s stammering apologies, shaking in what looks like horror, before Steve can even say, wait. 

Just wait.

He doesn’t even know for what.

—

He doesn’t talk to Robin about it, at least not at first, but when she sees the look on his face he’s pretty sure she’s figured it out. She probably knew before he did, and for a minute he’s actually angry at her for not telling him, for not warning him that this was what was going on, that this was always what was going on. 

It’s not like all of this comes as a total shock, not as much as it would have a year ago. There were always rumors, about Billy, and from some of the stuff Max has said, about Billy’s dad in particular, Steve was pretty sure Billy was gay. It was the kind of thing he carefully didn’t think about, didn’t want to make things weird or embarrass Billy by acknowledging it, not when he didn’t bring it up. The idea of connecting this information with the way Billy looked at him sometimes - before, even, but especially after - never crossed his mind for an instant. The idea of going even further and connecting it with the sidelong glances Robin and Max gave them, or, God, even his own fucking feelings, wanting Billy close, getting nervous when he didn’t see him for a while, missing him, wanting to just be near him, was even further away. It was one of those things that just didn’t seem possible.  
God, he is such an idiot.

He doesn’t really know why he decides to go see Billy on Christmas. Doesn’t even know what he’s going to say. He just can’t get the thought of Billy’s face after he kissed him out of his mind, that terrible, sick, stricken look. It’s all he can think of when he thinks of Billy, which is pretty much all the time now, actually, and he has to get it out of his head. Has to see something else, maybe even that shy, wry smile that sometimes flickers across his face, and God, Steve doesn’t know how he ever could have seen this for anything other than what it is.

Max gives him such a wary, suspicious look when he she answers his knock on the door to the Hargroves’ house that he can tell immediately that Billy’s either told her, or she’s more or less figured it out. Another thing she probably understood before he did. Steve thinks of how protective she is of Billy, how she tries to put a shield between him and the rest of the world, and it suddenly makes his heart ache.

“Hi,” he says, and gives her some approximation of a charming smile that probably just comes out cheesy and weird. “Is Billy here?”

Max looks at him for a long, long time, so long that Steve feels himself getting sweaty and his smile going frozen and sickly on his face. It’s not like he didn’t know teenage girls could be terrifying, but he’s never been sized up by one in quite this way before. It’s like meeting a girl’s overprotective father only somehow about a million times worse, because Billy’s been in real danger, had real pain, and Max knows it.

He must not look as suspicious as he feels, because Max finally sighs and shrugs. “He’s out back,” she says.

“Thanks,” Steve says, too-bright, and feels her eyes on him as he walks away.

Billy’s standing outside, in jeans and a hoodie, looking up at the grey winter sky. He looks so still, like he’s been standing there forever and nothing could move him. Plant your feet, Steve thinks, with a strange wave of fondness that nearly knocks him out.

He walks slowly over the crushed leaves and muddy grass, makes sure to make plenty of noise. He knows Billy’s going to be surprised to see him, probably startle away, but he doesn’t want to sneak up on him, at least. He walks up to Billy, far enough away to give him space, but close enough that he can probably see him in his peripheral vision. Billy doesn’t move.

“Hi,” he says, and winces at how loud his voice is. “Uh. Merry Christmas.”

God, what a stupid thing to say.

They’re quiet for awhile while Steve scrambles for something to say, something to make this better, because Billy’s head is ducked down and his hands are shaking and he looks fucking devastated and Steve just feels stupid and too big and too loud.

Finally, Billy mutters, “I’m sorry.”

It’s like a dam is broken. Billy still doesn’t turn to look at him, but the words come rushing out. “God, Harrington, I’m so sorry. It was so fucking stupid, I’m so stupid, I crossed a line and I’m so sorry” - he sucks in a breath, his voice breaking - “please just forget it ever happened, okay, please, we don’t ever have to talk about it again, I just, I don’t know how I could have been so stupid or read things so - so totally wrong - “  
“You didn’t,” Steve blurts out, desperate to interrupt him, and grabs onto Billy’s arm. “You didn’t read anything wrong. I did.” It's not until he says it that he realizes how true it is.

He strokes his hand up and down Billy’s arm, slow and tentative. He can feel the muscle through his shirt. It feels strange, like he’s detached from his own body and is watching someone else doing it. Billy shudders, shaking like he’ll break apart.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, man,” he admits. Billy tenses up immediately, makes to pull away, and Steve curses himself again for how those words could be interpreted, rushes, out “No, I mean - I mean, I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, at all. Kind of ever. I mean, you’d be surprised how much - how much shit I don’t know. I don’t know how I - I should have seen this coming, but I just, I just didn’t. I don’t even know what I’m saying here, or what I want, or…I mean, I do know what I want, I think, I just - “

“Slow down, Harrington,” Billy mutters. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Steve laughs, probably harder than the joke warrants it, but God, he’s just so relieved that Billy’s starting to relax, not to have fucked up and said the wrong thing again. “I’m just…” he sighs, “I’m not sorry. I’m not. Not about, about any of it.”

“Okay,” Billy whispers after a moment. Steve realizes, absently, that he’s still stroking his arm like a creep. He looks down and notices that Billy’s not wearing gloves and he thinks, stupidly, that his hands must be cold.

His hand, when Steve takes it, is cold. His fingers are blunt and wide and his nails are cracked and a little stained from tobacco, and Steve is pretty sure it’s the softest thing he’s ever felt. He twines his fingers around Billy’s, knotting them together, and it’s stupid to feel this happy, fucking elated over holding someone’s hand, like when he was eight years old and held Casey Donovan’s hand for the first time and thought he was on top of the world. Yeah, Steve hasn’t really been living up to his rep lately, but he isn’t actually in elementary school.

Whatever. Who cares. There’s nobody here to see him, not in this quiet place, where it feels like he could stay forever.

Slowly, tentatively, Billy leans over to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder, the way he realizes he’s been waiting for since, probably, the first time he saw Billy alive again, standing in Melvald’s with Max and Susan, moving a little too slowly, eyes going wide and shaken when he saw Steve, feeling like something that had been too tight in his chest had finally unclenched. He squeezes Billy’s hand, rests his head down on his.

“Shit,” he says, a little breathless, and laughs. “Holy shit.”


End file.
